My First Mother, Norma Carol, was born on September 11th.
She gave birth to me as a young, unwed mother in 1968 when society frowned upon single mothers, and was one of the first to register with the ALMA Registry (Adoptee's Liberation Movement) looking for her "son". She wasn't allowed to hold me, and had been told by the hospital staff and attorney after going through a difficult labor and c-section that she had given birth to a baby boy.
Sadly, she died in 1980 from breast cancer, thinking she had a son who she told her family would some day "come back". In truth, she actually had a daughter, who, indeed, did come back, 10 years too late to meet her (again) on this side of eternity.
I still haven't been to obtain my own birth records from the hospital, even though I gave birth (at the same hospital) to a premature baby and need(ed) this important information for my own medical care during pregnancy. Even with a court-order I am still waiting after several requests.
With my Mother's birthday on 9/11, I have finally been able to grieve her passing and loss of my dream to know her. I watch the Memorials and cry for those innocent victims at the Twin Towers. And also for my Mother and the pain she endured during the Baby Scoop Era.
It took years of slowly unthawing from the numbness I felt inside, the day I found my Grandmother and heard my own Mother's story. She loved animals, the color purple, and advocating for women. She even wrote a column for the Bartlesville newspaper in honor of Alice Paul.
On my own birthday a few years ago I was driving alone listening to the radio, when a beautiful lullaby I had never heard came over the waves, immediately catching my attention. It was Bette Midler singing "Baby of Mine" and the tears flowed again ~ but this time they were tears of acceptance. I could finally embrace the Love I knew my Mother had for me all along, and the strong connection we will always share.
She is my Mother. I miss her so much.
I post this link to "Bitter Winds" in her memory.
